


Harder and harder to breathe

by MINDinINK



Series: Raising Hawkeye [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton- centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Phil Coulson as a substitute dad, Protective Phil Coulson, SHIELD Family, Sick Clint Barton, Sickfic, Sickness, Teenager Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MINDinINK/pseuds/MINDinINK
Summary: Part ONE of the RAISING HAWKEYE series.Clint gets sick and Phil realises too late, but does everything he can to make sure Clint will be fine.I really suck at summaries. I promise it‘s worth taking a look.
Series: Raising Hawkeye [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872529
Comments: 16
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and while I appreciate constructive criticism of any kind, I would ask you to not slam the mistakes in my face in an offensive way. I had that happen before and it killed my muse for a story I used to love writing. 
> 
> This story is unbeta-ed and if one of you dear readers would be ready to help me out as a Beta reader and correcting my mistakes, i would be forever grateful. 
> 
> I plan to write a lot more about Clint and Coulson living (and suffering) together. I am also working on the main story, that sets the background and big picture for this series, with all the details.

Coulson awoke to the faint sound of coughing. Shaking sleep off, he turned on his back and rubbed a hand over his face, listening into the nightly silence of the house. They had been dealing with a series of nightmares again lately, so he had left his door ajar. Clint had insisted on being fine, that he was old enough to deal with night terrors, but on more than one occasion he hadn't woken up, but trashed and screamed loud and long enough to wake Phil. Being on alert didn't hurt, a door being left ajar didn't embarrass anybody, but helped him sleep better, knowing he would notice if Clint needed him. 

Phil threw the blanket to the side and got up. The illuminated numbers on his radio clock read the early morning hours of 3.17am. The coughing stopped when he was halfway to the door, silence filling the house again. With only one other person in the house there wasn't a question about where he had to go. Clint's room was on the other end of the hallway, his door also slightly ajar. He didn't like completely closed rooms, either the door or the window had to always be open at least a crack.

He knocked on the door, then pushed it open to peek inside. In the pale light falling in through the window, he saw Clint sitting up, head leaned back against the wall and his eyes closed. 

"Hey.." 

He walked in an over to his bed, sitting at the edge of it, looking at the teenager with concern. Clint opened his eyes, his breathing laboured and with a low wheezing sound to it, that Phil could hear clearly. He turned his head slowly to look at his guardian, his eyes only half open. The light was enough for Phil to make out the sweat covering the boy's face. Yeah, he looked like death warmed over. He had been fine in the morning before school, so Coulson was concerned about how fast his health had declined. He extended his hand slowly, touching his forehead. He was burning up under his touch, letting out a low noise and leaning into the older man's hand.

"How long have you been feeling sick?"

"Dunno… morning was fine… didn't feel so great after school… went to bed early.."

He paused in between the words, swallowing heavily and Coulson could tell by the twitch around his eyes, how much his throat was hurting. He felt a pang of guilt hit him. He had come home later than planned, had thought nothing of the fact that Clint had been in bed already. Winter break was coming up and his teachers had set their mind on collecting as many grades as possible. He had put it down to tough days. He should have known better.

"You should have messaged me, Clint. You are seriously sick" His voice was full of concern, that only grew when Clint tried to say something, but broke into a hacking cough next moment, doubling over and pressing his hand to his chest. The cough sounded wet, leaving him gasping and a wheeze in his chest when he sank back against the wall, gasping and fighting to get his breathing under control again. He looked absolutely miserable. Phil reached for a pillow and helped him to get into a half laying and half sitting position, pulling the covers up to his chest. The teenager wasn't even fighting him and it only worried him more, knowing of his dislike to be touched or someone knowing when he wasn't well.

"Stay here. Try not to fall asleep" 

Clint's eyes were already half closed, but he nodded, swallowing with effort. Coulson was up on his feet and hurried to the bathroom, got the thermometer and went down to start the kettle for some tea. Waiting for the water to boil, he took out his phone, dialing the number for SHIELD medical to reach the doctor on stand by for the night. As he waited for someone to pick up, he moved around, preparing a cup of herbal tea with a generous amount of honey. 

"SHIELD medical, Dr.Varma speaking"

He let out a sigh of relief. Of all possible doctors on call, it was the one Clint got along with best. 

"It's Phil Coulson, I'm calling about Clint. He caught something and I'm afraid it's something serious this time"

"How serious are we talking?"

The medic was immediately on alert, Coulson could hear some shuffling in the background. The kettle clicked and he poured the boiling water into the mug, while reporting what he knew so far.

"He's got a deep wet cough. He's wheezing and at least his throat hurts. I'm about to take his temperature, but it's without a doubt that he's running a fever"

More shuffling at the other end of the line, a door opened and closed. 

"Is he short of breath or struggling to breathe?"

"He was gasping earlier when a coughing fit hit"

Varma let out a low noise, then obviously covered the phone to talk to someone, before returning his attention to the agent. 

"Agent Coulson?"

"Yes, I'm still here"

He held the phone between his ear and shoulder while climbing the stairs, balancing the mug in his hand, a bottle of water in the other.

"I need to know how high his fever is"

Did he sound concerned? There was something to his voice, that he couldn't place, but it was an edge that made him nervous. It was almost as if the medic knew more than him. 

"Give me a minute"

He entered Clint's room again. About to say something about the teenager having fallen asleep, but he was corrected when Clint's eyes fluttered open, glassy with fever.

"Phil..?"

"It's okay, we'll figure this out" he said soothingly as he set the mug down. He held the phone between his shoulder and ear still, while there was more shuffling in the background on the other end. 

"Don't want.. to go to SHIELD medical.. they'll keep me in… " 

His protest sounded weak and again Coulson asked himself how his health had spiraled down so fast. 

"We'll see about that" he only replied and pulled the blanket off him a bit to release some heat.

"No..I'm cold.. don't pu.." 

The rest went down in a hacking cough and Dr.Varma at the other end of the line sucked in a deep breath. Yes, there was something more to this and as soon as he had Clint settled, he would talk to the medic more serious.

"I know, buddy" He hardly ever called him that, only after nightmares or panic attacks. "We need to take your temperature. I have Dr.Varma on the phone and he needs to know"

His eyes went to the phone and it appeared as if Clint needed a moment to process what he had been told. He repeated that he didn't want to be brought to medical, before a visible shudder went through him. He had never seen him so sick and out of it, not even when he had first brought him into SHIELD. Normally he caught ear infections, a sniffle in winter, or got some scratchy eyes when his hay fever hit hard, but this? This was new. 

"Open up. We talk more after" 

Reluctant, but without a fight, he opened his mouth and allowed Coulson to place the thermometer under his tongue. Clint almost drifted off during the thirty seconds the thermometer needed to measure his temperature. When it beeped Coulson held his breath, for reasons as it turned out 

"102, 6"

Clint groaned and tried to pulled the covers back up, but Coulson stopped him.

"No,keep them down, you are overheating already" 

"I'm cold" came the weak protest, but the agent wasn't having any of it. 

"Agent Coulson, I'm on my way. Try to give him some water and cool him down"

"What's going on, since when does SHIELD provide house calls?"

His voice was louder then, caught Clint's attention even. He looked at his guardian, fear in his eyes.

"I have four agents under surveillance at med Bay. All of them with a serious case of bacterial pneumonia. The earlier we start the treatment, the better. I'll be over in twenty-five minutes. Call me if he develops trouble breathing"

With that the call cut and he could feel his heart jump with fear. If that pneumonia was what Clint had caught and other grown men were already under intensive care, he didn't feel comfortable about  _ not  _ bringing him in. He knew how terrified the teenager was about anything that involved someone in a coat, medical procedures or medications, but this could easily spiral out of control. 

"Phil..? Is it.. bad.. ? Can I stay home..?" 

Clint's voice was broken and quiet. His face was slowly draining of color and he looked as exhausted as never before. He didn't want to think about how bad this could get.

"We'll see about that" He didn't want to give him false hope. He reached for the small water bottle he had brought up and uncapped it, handing it to the teenager. "Try to drink, you need to stay hydrated with the fever you are running" Clint closed a hand around the bottle and sat up, drinking the water and letting out a low noise after a few sips. He held it out for Coulson to take, his eyes drooping. He would be out like a light in no time. Phil helped him to get comfortable, making sure he wasn't covered too much and then left him for just a moment to get a cold cloth that he pressed to his forehead. Clint sighed, but his eyes stayed closed. He couldn't tell if he was too exhausted to react more, or already asleep. Either way he had stopped fighting and complaining and that, besides anything else, terrified him the most. Clint Barton was acting completely out of his usual ways and the minutes seemed to stretch into eternity as he sat there, watching Clint and waiting for the door bell to announce that the medic had arrived. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow people. Just WOW. Your amazing feedback blew me away !! I feel bad for having you wait for this second chapter for so long, but my brain has been highly uncooperative in between. I hope the wait was worth it for you.
> 
> \---> Check out my story 'Make a Wish', where you can request any kind of One-shot, drabble or pairing you've always wanted to read. No much is impossible and I guarantee that there can be as much Barton, Coulson, whump or comfort as you want. 
> 
> Now on to chapter 2. Have a good time reading, stay healthy, feel hugged and THANK YOU very much.

The world was swimming in and out of focus. He felt bone tired, exhausted to a level he had hardly ever experienced before. Sleep was a welcomed salvation, but his body was running havoc, not allowing him to rest peacefully. 

He faintly noticed a cool cloth being run over his forehead and face several times, but he couldn't bother to open his eyes. His head felt like someone had stuffed cotton into it, focusing and concentrating almost impossible. The tickle in his throat was constant, his chest felt as if someone had wrapped an iron band around it, every breath meeting resistance. His body heavy as lead, he didn't move although the covers being pulled off him caused him to shiver. 

He heard Phil's voice, talking to him lowly. He only understood half of what he said. Something got pressed to his lips, a hand cupped his neck and back of his head. He got told to drink slowly and needed another moment to understand that it was a straw between his lips. His first reaction was to push it away, but he wasn't allowed. Taking the first sip, he let out a low noise at how good the water felt on his throat. Greedily he sucked more water through the straw. 

Slow down. You make yourself sick.

That was Phil again? Yeah, must have been. He was with him. They lived together. He took care of him.

He was about to take it slower, but choked on the last bit of water. The coughing that broke out of him caused him to gasp. His eyes flew open as his lungs seemed to seize up. Taking a breath felt impossible. He was pulled up, leaned forward with an arm across his chest holding him up. His own hands closed around the strong forearm, fingers digging into the flesh as he struggled to breathe. The coughing didn't stop. It hurt. It made his eyes water and he felt the panic rise at his inability to suck in a deep breath. 

He felt like he was drowning on dry land.

Phil's voice was there,but it faded out of focus with the rising panic. He felt himself being pushed back, hitting pillows. Half sitting he was vaguely aware of Phil pulling his arm from his grip. Next his hand rested on his chest, his voice raised, pulling Clint's focus to his guardian while gasping, not even fully realising that the coughing had stopped.

"Deep breaths, buddy. You will pass out this way. We do it together. In.. out.. No. Slow, Clint. Deep in.. hold it.. out.. that's it.. you are doing well.."

He tried to follow the instructions and somehow Coulson managed to push through the panic, reaching him enough to coax him back to normal deep breaths. He turned his head and looked at him, eyes only half open. He didn't know what to say, didn't even feel like talking and just let his eyes fall shut again. He was too exhausted to fight sleep and drifted off to the feeling of the wet cloth on his forehead.

Next time he became fully aware of his surroundings, there were two voices next to him. One was, without a doubt, Coulson. The other one needed a moment to click, but then he recognized Dr.Varma, the presence of the man being enough for him to fight for staying awake. The two men seemed to have ended their conversation right that second, because they both turned around and looked at Clint as they approached his bedside. Varma was wearing a mask, mouth and nose covered. It sent chills down his spine.

"How are you feeling?" 

A stupid question and it didn't help, that he already started touching him before he had time to answer. 

He tensed head to toe as the man's big hand rested on his forehead, then both hands touched the side's of his neck, just below his ears. He only saw his forehead, could tell he started to frown. The teenager released a breath he had been holding, when the medic took his hands off him. Immediately he was thrown into a round of coughing. Hands were on him again, but much more gentle, so there was no doubt that this time it was Coulson. He helped him sit, held him up right as the hacking cough shook him. The muscles between his ribs seized and seemed to fight against his ribcage expanding again. By the time it was over Clint felt exhausted, his eyes had watered and there was disgusting stuff in his mouth.

As if he had read his mind, Coulson handed him a tissue and he spit out what had gathered in his mouth. Gloved hands took the tissue from him. Through the watery vision of his teary eyes he watched Varma collect whatever he had brought up. Gross.

He wanted to drop back into the pillow, rest his throbbing head down, but Phil wouldn't let him. Instead he held him up and caused him to shiver by pulling his shirt up. The boy raised his hand and tried to swat Phil's hand away, but got his wrist caught in his hold instead.

"Not right now, bud" he said and it was ridiculous how he could sound stern and serious, but gentle at the same time. Something cold touched his bare chest and this time he couldn't fight the unpleasant noise that came over his lips. He shivered again, the movements seizing through his body like a wave of short intense cramps. Coulson held him and kept him from fighting when the object touched more spots on his chest and back. The shirt covered him again and he appreciated being guided back down to rest against the pillows. His eyes fell closed. He was too tired, had no will to fight. He was miserable and if sleep meant escaping the burn in his chest, that seemed to get worse with every wheezing breath he took, he would happily pass out. 

>>\--->

Phil Coulson felt helpless and it wasn't a feeling he was good at dealing with. When Clint, who was usually full of energy and quick to shoot a sarcastic line, obeyed with little to no fight, things were bad. He remained besides Clint after he had sunken back into the pillows, observing Varma's every move. The medic worked quick and efficient. All in all he didn't need more than ten minutes.

"Agent Coulson?"

"Hm?" He slowly turned his head to look at the man.

"I'm not gonna lie" he started and Coulson tensed. His hand, that had been resting on Clint's forearm, held on tighter. "He's showing all the typical symptoms, although I can only say it with certainty once I ran a few tests. I'll take a blood sample and leave him hooked to a few devices"

Phil frowned, worry sitting heavy in his stomach. His eyes went back to Clint. He was pale, his breath wheezing and his lips colorless. He looked even younger than he was.

"For now I'd leave him here, but under conditions and only because I know how terrified he is of being at SHIELD med bay"

He drew a deep breath, nodded to indicate he understood.

"What conditions?"

"I keep his oxygen monitored, set up an IV with fluids and start him on antibiotics already. Keep him down, try to make him eat and drink. If his temperature rises more, he becomes agitated or delusional, his lips turn blue or he struggles to breathe, I'll have him brought in. This is serious Agent Coulson. One of the agents at SHIELD was in serious respiratory distress earlier today. He's on oxygen at the moment"

He nodded slowly, praying to whatever higher might was listening, that they wouldn't come to that point. Sick Clint was a handful, sick Clint at medical and with possible breathing issues? That sounded like the personal nightmare for both of them.

"It has also proven to be highly contagious and developing fast"

"Understood"

"Did you?"

That time he looked up, face serious, full on Agent mode. 

"I did understand your worry about me potentially catching what he has"

Varma straightened, one eyebrow just slightly raising. Realisation dawned on him. The agent was aware of the threat for his health, but would have still not left the young man's side. They had built some trust and it was still fragile most days. Clint hated being sick for the vulnerable position it put him in. Keeping him home, with him , was the biggest chance they had for cooperation and fast recovery.

"And the answer remains the same. He stays here and me with him as long as it's safe to do so. I can handle him"

The medic nodded, taking a deep breath before wordlessly reaching for the equipment in his bag.

"Put it in the back of his right hand and tape it down. He won't keep anything on his left and if it's not counterproductive to anything, help him sleep for the next hours"

That got the medic's attention. Hebdidnt have to say it outbloud for Coulson to understand what hebwas surprised about. The teenager had obviously been too out of it to understand what was happening. If drugging him down and giving the medication a headstart would help, he was more than ready to take the frustration of the kid later.

It looked like a small medical room having been set up by the time Varma left. Oxygen clip on his fingers, IV in his hand and several more bags ready, humidifier running, a sticky device on his chest, that kept his heartbeat monitored and a tablet showing all the readings on the bedside table. Coulson fell into the purple beanbag he had pulled up next to Clint's bed. He couldn't leave him alone in this state just then, not after he had been out enough to sleep through the IV line being put in and the blood being drawn.

He checked the readings once more and dimmed the lights till only a low warm glow was left in the room. He stretched out and pulled the blanket he had brought over himself. According to Varma they were in for a rough couple of days and he was convinced he wouldn't sleep much anyway, until the lab results came back. Phil closed his eyes and rested his head back with a sigh. It took one hour and several glances to the readings on the tablet before sleep finally claimed him, taking him to a light slumber. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, leave kudos. If you have something to say, whether it may be criticism or encouragement, a wish for a second chapter, or a wish for a certain situation In their lives you would like to read about, leave me a comment. I usually answer to every comment. Every little bit of feedback is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you for reading


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